Chapter 3

Arianna

I know my plan was crazy. Handing a note to Nikolai Kuzmin and asking him to kidnap me has to be up there as one of the most reckless things I've done. He's the notoriously ruthless leader of the Kuzmin Bratva and my father's greatest rival. I must be crazy to think he'd want to help me. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I didn't exactly have time to come up with a better plan once I knew he was coming to see my father. It was lucky I was able to sneak out and get the note to him in the first place.

I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. Why would he risk a war over a woman he doesn't even know? The daughter of his enemy. And how did I even expect him to pull off my kidnapping when I am kept under twenty-four-seven surveillance and constantly guarded? It's been a week. He's not coming. No knight in shining armor is riding in to save me. I'm on my own. About to be married off like a pretty little trinket, sold to the highest bidder.

So why do I feel so disappointed that Nikolai didn't help me? He doesn't owe me anything. We didn't exchange a single word, and yet it felt like he saw me. In his presence, I felt safe and confident he would protect me. Since that first encounter, I haven't been able to stop thinking about Nikolai Kuzmin. I'd like to believe it's just because I'm hoping he'll rescue me. But if I'm honest with myself, that's not why I'm thinking about him.

Nikolai Kuzmin is pure sex and masculinity, it's like he walked right out of the pages of a book. He's the kind of man I didn't know existed, a fantasy. He must be at least six foot five and his well-tailored suit couldn't hide the fact that underneath there was rippling muscle. He walks like a man who knows what he wants and who always gets it. If only he wanted me.

As much as I've been daydreaming about his good looks, it's his eyes that haunt me. Piercing blue, like aquamarine pools you can sink in, they stand out in stark contrast to his tousled dark hair and brooding chiseled jawline. When our eyes met, it was like everything else fell away and there was just us. His gaze made me feel bolder than I'd felt in a long time, bold enough to have the bravery to hand him the note. Just thinking of what it would be like to be held by him, to kiss him, to feel those eyes looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters in the world, has me aching with longing. A longing that will remain unfulfilled.

A knock at the door interrupts me from daydreaming about Nikolai Kuzmin.

"It's time, princess."

"I'll be right out, Matteo," I reply, flustered.

I'm pretty confident that I should not be sitting here having thoughts about another man on my wedding day. But then again, most brides actually want to get married. The thought of my betrothed is enough to extinguish any lingering arousal. I can't believe that Father is really going to make me do this. But all of my pleading, arguing, and bargaining, have fallen on deaf ears. I'm out of time. And out of ideas on how the hell I can get out of this.

"Princess," Matteo says again, rapping harder on the door this time.

Before I even have a chance to reply, he opens it and strides in. He stops and does a double-take when he sees me.

"Princess… Arianna… You look…"

"Miserable? Pissed off? Like someone being led to their execution? Like a prized pig at auction? Or do I look like the girl you swore to protect who's being forced to marry someone against her will?" I snap, unable to hold it in and be the good obedient little girl anymore.

"I was going to say beautiful," he replies softly, though he does have the good grace to at least seem a little bit embarrassed. "Come now, it won't be so bad. You'll be the wife of one of the most powerful men in the country."

"Power, that's all you and my father care about. You certainly don't care about me. About what I want," I cry, my voice breaking with emotion.

A single tear escapes and Matteo steps forward, reaching an arm up as though he plans to wipe it away. He's always had a soft spot for me—if such a man is capable of softness. But he's never attempted to touch me. He's not that stupid. But his guard is down, and he's distracted. I seize the opportunity. Stepping forward as though to hug him, I unholster his gun before he realizes what I'm doing and point it at his head.

"Matteo, I don't want to use this. But I will. Now, shut the door."

"Princess, you don't have to do this. Think rationally, what are you going to do? There are five of your father's men here who will stop you before you make it off the grounds, shooting me would only bring them running."

As he speaks, he slowly inches his hand closer to his mic, no doubt intending to open comms and call for help.

"Don't even think about it, hands where I can see them," I order.

He begrudgingly does as I say. He's well aware that I can use the gun if I need to, he's the one who taught me how to fire it, after all. A fact I'm sure he's regretting now. I doubt he thought that I'd ever view him as the threat he was teaching me to protect myself from. My mind is racing. He's right, I can't shoot him, and I'm bound to be seen by the guards if I leave. But I have to try. I struggle to keep my hands from shaking as I frantically search my room for something to tie him up with. Nothing. I'm running out of time. Someone is bound to come looking for us soon, wondering what the delay is.

"Hand over your comms and your car keys," I demand.

"Please, Arianna, they'll kill me for this," he says calmly, but there's real fear in his eyes.

"I know. I wish it wasn't true, and I'm sorry. But if it's me or you, I choose me. Hand them over. Now."

He places them on the floor and kicks them toward me. I gather them up, keeping the gun trained on him at all times. Truth be told. I have no idea what to do next. The second I leave he'll shout out and alert everyone of my escape. I don't want to kill him, even though he scares me he's always been kind to me. He senses my hesitation.

"Arianna, just hand me the gun back and we can pretend this never happened. Your father doesn't need to know. If you even manage to make it out of here without being caught, you've nowhere to go. He'd find you and make you pay."

My resolve falters. He's right. I can't take on my father, there's nowhere I can hide. I have no one in this world. Not one person will help me.

Suddenly, the sound of gunfire rings out and we both turn to look at the door where the noise is coming from. It sounded close. Too close. My heart leaps into my throat. The idea that we must protect the house at all times and that we could be attacked was always talked about and prepared for, but I never thought it would happen. My mind races as I contemplate which of my father's enemies could be coming. Panic and dread flood my veins. Nothing could have prepared me for how downright terrifying this is.

"Princess, hand me the gun. We're under attack," Matteo says frantically.

I can't move. Fear and uncertainty have me rooted in place.

"Princess, please!" Matteo barks, eyes fixed on the door.

The sounds of more shots and approaching footsteps snap me out of it. I drop the gun, not quite willing to hand it over but aware that my hands are shaking too much to fire it if I had to.

Matteo bends down to pick up the gun, relief etched on his face. At that moment, the door to my room crashes open, and a towering blood-spattered demigod strides in, Nikolai Kuzmin. He fires a single shot and Matteo collapses, dead.

I try to stifle the scream that threatens to bubble up inside, the relief that he's come to rescue me is instantly overwhelmed by the horror of how easily he just killed a man I've known all my life. He didn't even flinch. I glance down in horror at the man who used to be the strongest, most deadly man I knew. Until now.

"Oh my god, what did you do?"

I look up at the man in front of me, he's calm and perfectly in control, yet the danger and violence palpably emanate from him. I'm vaguely aware that my wedding dress is now stained in Matteo's blood and for a moment I want to tear it off. That is until I notice the hungry glint in Nikolai's eye as he looks at me.

"Exactly what you asked me to. I'm kidnapping you," he says casually before slinging me over his shoulder with ease as though I weigh nothing.

A tiny squeal escapes my lips. "Put me down!"

"No," he growls, striding out of the room and down the corridor.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking. Put me down, now!" I demand, kicking my legs like a petulant child.

"I said, no. Now, shut up before I change my mind and leave you here," he commands.

I can't see his face slung over his shoulder like this, but his abrupt tone makes me comply. I don't want to find out if he'd keep that promise. I stay silent as we hurry through the house. As we walk, I try not to look at the bodies of the two dead men we pass. Luckily, most of the people who would normally be here are waiting for me at the cathedral with my father and the rest of the wedding party. Only a few remained to escort me there. But still, six men have died today because of me. I may have said to Matteo I'd kill him to save myself, but the reality of someone actually doing that is far more horrifying than I could have anticipated.

"You… You killed them all," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You asked me to kidnap you, they weren't just going to hand you over," he replies calmly.

"Yes, but I didn't think… I didn't want anyone to get hurt!"

"Then you should be more careful who you ask for favors, kukolka ," he says, his deep voice almost purring.

Although this man is no pussy cat, he's a lion. A lion that I've received a favor from. The fact that this favor is unlikely to be without a price is slowly starting to dawn on me. So why on earth do I still feel strangely safe in his arms? The warm solidness of him is infuriatingly comforting and I can't help from being painfully aware of the fact that the arm that's gripping me is tantalizingly close to my ass. And worse, I like it.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

"All clear, boss."

A man who I assume is working with Nikolai approaches us. I can't see his face from this angle, but I can see that he too is armed, and by the looks of the blood spatter on his shirt, he's been using his weapon.

"Good. Let's go."

Before long, we approach an armored black SUV with tinted-out windows. The other man opens the back door and Nikolai unceremoniously throws me inside and buckles my seatbelt for me like a child.

"At least I'm not in the trunk," I mutter.

"Don't tempt me, kukolka. If you're difficult, I still might," he says, fixing me with those blue eyes.

His tone is light, almost playful but I'm pretty sure men like Nikolai Kuzmin don't make jokes, and I sure as hell don't want to spend the journey to god knows where locked inside a trunk. So, I stay silent, simply glaring back at him. To my surprise, he climbs into the back and sits next to me. Sitting so close to him has my stomach doing backflips and my treacherous body is responding to him far more than I would like. This is going to be torture. I try to move as far away from him as I can, pressing against the window, but I'm still painfully aware of his presence. The other man hops in the car and we speed away, leading me into my uncertain future at the hands of the mysterious, sexy, and downright dangerous man next to me.